


Dark Paths

by StormOfBrilliance



Category: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: Blödhgarm is op but we knew that from the books already, Canon-Typical Violence, Fighting, Gen, Minor Original Character(s), Pondering on (dark) magic, Pre-Canon, Recklessness, Rescue Missions, only briefly though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29570523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormOfBrilliance/pseuds/StormOfBrilliance
Summary: During the first war against Galbatorix the leader of the elven mages at that time is captured and brought to Dras-Leona. Blödhgarm has set his mind on freeing his mentor out of a city that is far into the enemy's territory, that is the residence of the Ra'zac and their fanatic cult.
Kudos: 2





	Dark Paths

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old piece of mine, originally written in German. I translateted it with the help of DeepL.
> 
> Written because I love Blödhgarm and think he is such an underrated character who just doesn't get enough attention in fanfics.

_She's like a tender flap of wings, the sound of which is carried through the air to me, cloaked in stardust telling about foreign lands._ This would be a possible answer to the question of what magic is. _An endless melody, played by the world's orchestra, since the beginning and until eternity._ This would be another answer. However, if he were actually asked this question, he would probably reply "Everything and nothing". He did not know how many would understand him though. For him it was obvious, he simply felt it. Only it could not be put into words, magic was greater than anything it described, the Ancient Language included.

Blödhgarm knelt on the rooftop in downtown Dras-Leona and let his eyes wander over the chaotic city. Below him was one of the many squares, in front of him, several streets of distance away, loomed the huge cathedral that was his destination. Behind it, not in his field of vision, but more importantly not located behind _him_ , was the Helgrind.

_"Yaela!" The elf looked around, glanced at Invidia and Wyrden, who were rushing towards her. They had just arrived at their war camp, where they still desperately struggled to resist Galbatorix' rule. "Laethlin has been captured."_

_"However, we do not believe Galbatorix is behind this. Unfortunately though we know no more than that they were black-robed people, all mages. They attacked us in the middle of the battle. Laethlin gave us the possibility to escape, but he had no chance fighting them alone. We're all on the ropes."_

_Yaela stepped from one foot to the other, a nervous flick ran through her features. "I don't know what to make of it."_

_"Perhaps I can help." Blödhgarm and the others turned to the elf who had just approached. Oromis, one of the few riders still a alive who had not sided Galbatorix, joined them._

_"I agree that those weren't Galbatorix' henchmen, they would have sought an easier, more important target, possibly Lord Däthedr. My guess is the men came from Dras-Leona and belong to the cult there. Laethlin has tried to take action against them several times because they are responsible for many atrocities. So are the Ra'zac, with whom they are in league."_

_Yaela drew a sharp breath, Blödhgarm tilted his head in interest._

_"He has killed many of them, they have always resented him for that. Now it seems they found a way to get back at him."_

_"Then we must get him out of there," Blödhgarm decided. Yaela looked at him, startled; Oromis frowned._

_"The Ra'zac are dangerous. Do not underestimate them, especially if you have not met them before," the rider said._

_"I'll go with you," Wyrden declared then, stepping up beside him._

_"Absolutely out of the question! You two will not face the Ra'zac and a horde of maniac priests, who in addition to this have taken residence in a city deep in the enemy's lands. Not with an army could we get him out of there." Yaela seemed to have regained her poise and confidence, a strict frown on her face, arms crossed._

_"An army will fail, but just the two of us won't stand out. We can get him out of there," Blödhgarm retorted angrily, unable to believe that she would not even try to free their leader._

_"It would be a risky venture, Blödhgarm."_

_Yaela gave Oromis a grateful look, then turned her focus back on him._

_"I can't forbid you anything, but I implore you: Don't go. We need you here. The same goes for you, Wyrden," she finally said, glancing at the two elves in turn, though she stared at Blödhgarm in particular._

_Wyrden finally nodded reluctantly. "You are probably right, Yaela. Our powers are needed here."_

_Relief was evident in the elf's face._

_"Laethlin has incurred their wrath by deeds he has single-handedly pulled off, and now he will have to pay the price. We cannot risk the safety of our people for someone we do not even know will be alive when we reach him. He knows that," Yaela's tone is harsh, putting an end to the discussion._

_Then the two mages left following Oromis to report to King Evandar. Blödhgarm gazed angrily after Yaela, though he knew very well that her statement was not devoid of reason. Wyrden rested his hand between his shoulder blades._

_"Let it be. Let's make sure the people here don't die on us."_

Blödhgarm had noted Yaela's request, but had chosen not to follow it. He could not just leave Laethlin to die. It was reckless, he knew that, and far from responsible, but he just couldn't help it. How would they gain anything if they didn't risk something? So that night he had saddled his horse as well as their leader's and had ridden to Dras-Leona. A few miles away from the town by the lake, he had left them with the request to wait a full day before returning to camp alone. He had swum a short distance through the lake and then crossed the harbours. At the shore, the city spread out even outside the walls, the low mud wall here only separating the fishermen's area from one of the many slums. It stank of fish and excrements in both places, it was the dirtiest and most miserable city he had ever visited, and he would not voluntarily visit it again. He had encountered several half-starved, crippled people and children dressed in rags and with blank faces after he had climbed over the wall, as the gate had been guarded and he had not wanted to draw attention to himself. He had suppressed his anger and kept walking, even though the sight had almost torn his heart apart a few times. From his memories he knew that things had never been good for Dras-Leona, but it had only recently become this bad again, now that under Galbatorix' rule slavery was no longer punished and charity no longer cultivated. As soon as he had been sure that the simple houses would carry him and he would not be seen, he had moved from the street, where at times he sunk into the dirt far up to his ankle, to the rooftops, approaching the more centrally located parts of the city.

And now a few rows of houses and some larger streets separated him from the cathedral, from which he could hopefully reach the passages under the city and look for Laethlin there. If he did not find the elf there, he had a problem, for then he would have to go into the Helgrind and that would make his plan considerably more difficult. Besides, such adversities cost time that he did not have.

One problem he had in any case were the Ra'zac, who should not be underestimated. He assumed that they were not the least to blame for Laethlin's capture and they would certainly not let their prey go just like that. Blödhgarm had never actually met one of them, but he had been warned explicitly before he left. They did not know magic, but they were not detectable with its help either. All that remained was to hope that they were sensitive to it. Part of him was curious, eager to meet them and find out why they were so different. Why they seemed to contradict all natural laws, especially magic. Every plant, every creature that existed, even the spirit beings, were perceptible, left a signature in the system that was unique. Only the Ra'zac were not part of it. Oromis called them unnatural, spawns of black magic. Blödhgarm was inclined to disagree. They existed, so they were part of the whole and thus could not be unnatural, could they? Black magic was still magic, it too was subject to its own rules.

He spend a lot of thoughts on the way here about the words of Oromis and his companions, about the Ra'zac and the strange priests who held Laethlin captive, but he had spent precious little time thinking of a strategy. And now here he sat, trying to free his captive leader. Without a plan, without preparation, without a hint of a clue. Oromis and Yaela had advised against his plan, his father would probably have slapped him for his suggestion alone, and Laethlin.... Laethlin would have accompanied him. Blödhgarm's strength in such actions had always been more in improvisation than in planning far ahead, and this now was likely to become his masterpiece. Or he would be keeping Laethlin company.

Blödhgarm glanced down at the street below him; the people there were busy. He carefully backed up a few steps, took a running start and pushed himself off the edge of the roof. Silently he landed on the ridge of the next house and crept in a crouched position to the edge at the side. He would have to return to the ground, he couldn't cross the main street of the city on the rooftops, it was too wide. He moved to the lower house, hiding in the shadows. The windows were far away enough for anyone to spot him from there, but he didn't know who else was out and about, possibly looking for intruders. At the very least, it had to be clear to the Ra'zac and also the priest cult that someone would come looking for their prisoner at some point. And even if the creatures shunned the daylight, they surely had others working for them.

The sun was still shining down on the streets, in about an hour it would no longer be visible behind the large houses. Blödhgarm had decided to wait for nightfall before setting out on his search. It gave the Ra'zac an advantage, but he was not so easily discovered himself. At least he hoped that Dras-Leona would rest at night and that he would encounter as few people as possible.

Relaxed, he leaned against the cool wall, his legs pulled close to his body, inside, however, he was highly tense. He was not used to this, he realized now. He had spent time in Ilirea, even among humans, but otherwise he had dedicated much of his life so far to science and the study of magic. He left the political haggling to others and the riders had taken care of the security. How naïve they had all been, how shocked by the war against Galbatorix, which had come so suddenly. But they probably should have guessed that peace wouldn't last forever. Most of his fighting had taken place on the training ground; he, like most elves, was not old enough to have experienced the war against the dragons. Until Galbatorix' machinations had come to light he hadn't even raised a weapon against anyone with intention to harm and now he was in the middle of enemy territory.

Behind him, the sun was sinking into the sea of houses, its red rays bathing the cathedral in an ominous light. Soon it would be nightfall. What would happen then? Would his venture cost him his head?

_"What happens when the last child's laughter fades into the darkness?"_

He whispered the question to the wind, which seemed to be the only familiar companion in this city. His neck fur bristled, he had to force himself not to tap his claws to the beat of the melody in his head on the roof shingles. He breathed in deeply, calming himself with those techniques he had practiced for years. In an agitated state, his venture was even more dangerous; he couldn't trust himself then. And the waiting made him unusually nervous, he felt more and more like the prey, not the hunter he actually was.

While he still tried to regain peace of mind, it began to dawn. By the time night finally fell upon the city, his mind had still not cleared. It had become deathly quiet by now, no sound echoed through the previously busy streets, no one stirred. It seemed as if Dras-Leona had become a ghost town that only awoke again with the light of the sun, as if people knew that death lurked here at night.

And for him, the time had arrived. Now he would not only control his fate, but he also held Laethlin's in his hands. This one night he had, then it was over.

He didn't feel ready, yet he slid down the roof, over the edge and landed on a stone canopy. Then he jumped down to the street, hurried to the other side and followed the alleys until he finally stood in front of the wall that surrounded part of the cathedral. He walked along it for a bit, then jumped up and looked around. On the other side was an abandoned garden. He moved from the wall to the elongated building next to it, probably part of the monastery. As he scurried along the roof, the tall façade of the cathedral loomed before him, seeming to swallow any remaining light, turning it pitch black. He probably didn't need to worry at all about people spotting him. Reaching the other end, he set across the narrow path that lay below him and landed on one of the cathedral's many arches, grasping a small spire to get enough grip. The stone under his fingers made him feel exactly the coldness that the huge building eradiated.

Without hesitating for long, he climbed up the supporting pillar, put his feet on gargoyles, pulled himself up grasping narrow ledges. He felt better now that he was on his way. Actions forced him to focus on the present, even if he only needed a fraction of his concentration for the climb. At the top, he walked across the connecting arch to the main body of the cathedral, below was the roof of the side building. The windows of the nave loomed before him, uncoloured but with elaborate tracery. He jumped, grabbed the eaves of the roof and swung himself up. Then he ran to the front and knelt there to wait. He had heard the bell from a distance, should it strike while he was in the tower, he would probably be deaf for the next few minutes afterwards, if not longer. He only had to wait a moment for the surprisingly melodious sound of a single bell to fill the air.

When the silence settled again, Blödhgarm climbed up the side of the northernmost tower to the level where the belfry was located. He entered through one of the numerous openings, made his way past the huge bells. A staircase led down inside of the tower, he followed it, always listening to hear if anyone was coming up here despite the late hour.

But no one came and he made his way down into the nave unperturbed. A few steps he actually took on the cool stone slabs, then he sought his way up again to where he would not be seen. Not a moment too soon, when he looked down again, two figures had entered the passage below him. Instantly he knew that they must be Ra'zac. They were relatively tall and entirely wrapped in black cloaks, but he had clearly recognized them by the non-existent trace of their spirit. He didn't dare move, hoping at the same time that they would not look up. The Ra'zac strode along the corridor below him with somewhat strange-looking movements that reminded him more of locusts than people, passing him without taking any notice. He waited until they had entered the main room, then continued to brachiate along the ceiling to the front of the transept. To his right, at the junction of the crossing and the choir loft, stood a black altar, the sight of which made him uncomfortable. He would have liked to tell himself that he was not affected by such things, but he had never been in a place where more black magic was caught in the air. It must be about twenty priests sitting on the rows of stone benches in front, all dressed in black, absorbed in meditation.

He closed his eyes, reached out his with mind, connecting to the ancient stonework. It was soaked with dark energy, he tried to ignore it, yet it still felt like he was moving through a swamp rather than bare rock. Deep below, the extensive tunnel system finally opened up to him. He followed it to the entrance, then bundled his thoughts back to himself. It was dangerous to open his mind for long in a place like this.

Blödhgarm looked straight ahead, opposite to him a room led away from the transept where a small chapel stood, there was the next descent into the tunnels. He left the side portico, climbed up from the arcades to the tracery of the high windows. Glancing towards the crossing, he assured himself that no one was watching, then jumped. On the other side of the transept he again got hold of the top edge of the arch, used the momentum to push himself off the partition with his feet and landed on the top of the chapel. Priests stood inside, he could hear their voices. He retreated into the shadow of the small building, which measured no more than ten paces in diameter. Through one of the milky windows he managed to look inside. Four robed men stood around another altar, two of them missing a hand and the others possessing at best half their fingers.

They were intoning a chant, he recognized fragments of the Ancient Language in it, but they had been alienated or created to suit the black magic, the rest was an older human dialect. He understood most of it and the words, their meaning sent a shiver down his spine; yet he listened with a certain fascination. He was, in a way, a student of magic and so it held a tremendous attraction for him in any form. His knowledge of black magic was not great; elves simply refused to use this kind of magic because it was not natural. Only a few of his people had ever tried their hand at it and all had met a rather inglorious end.

He memorized every single word the priests spoke, automatically deciphering the links behind them, the connection to magic. Carefully he opened his mind to actually feel the power of the words and the magic within. It was a simple prayer, not a spell in the true sense as it was usual for humans, yet he felt it, especially in the cathedral drenched in black magic, affecting the structures around them. The longer he sat here, observing his surroundings with his mind, the more the thought forced itself upon him that the distinction between good and evil magic that people were so fond of making did not correspond with reality. Both were connected to the world, influenced it, just as the world in return influenced magic. It was only logical, natural and what he heard and felt fitted seamlessly into his experienced understanding of magic.

The chanting stopped, the prayer had ended. He looked back down at the priests. One of them had drawn a knife, cut his finger with it and let the blood drip onto an ornament in the middle of the altar. He felt a spell activate, slowly the dark stone slid aside to reveal the entrance to the underground corridors. One by one the priests descended, the stone closing over them again.

Blödhgarm slid to the ground at the entrance to the chapel and then entered. Candles flickered around him, bathing the small, round room in a gloomy twilight. After one last critical look outside, he placed both hands on the altar, took a deep breath. If he entered the corridors now, there was no turning back. Escaping the cathedral was easy, but a tunnel system was another matter entirely. He banished the worried voices of his companions and Oromis from his thoughts and reached for his dagger. Dark blood dripped onto the ornament again, this time he even heard a slight click as the opening mechanism was activated.

However, even before the stone began to move and reveal the opening, Blödhgarm became aware of a soft hiss outside the chapel. A quick gesture, then the candles were all extinguished and he retreated into the dark shadows. Two figures approached the open doorway, Blödhgarm cursing silently as he recognized them by the way they moved as the Ra'zac from earlier. Assessing, he looked towards the altar, but the opening was still too narrow. Blödhgarm leapt into the air, grabbed the cross vault of the ceiling and braced his feet against two struts. The creatures entered the chapel, looked around. They would probably spot him as soon as they turned their gaze upwards.

There was a series of hisses and clicks, one of the Ra'zac pointed to the hole slowly cleared by the altar, the other, arms folded, inspected his surroundings. Blödhgarm held his breath as a precaution, not moving. He did not understand a word of the strange language the two creatures were using, but it was clear to him that they were wondering who had opened the entrance to the tunnels. They were looking for him. He shifted his weight, half leaning against one of the pillars so he could put a hand on his sword. One of the Ra'zac raised his head and saw him immediately. He uttered a startled cry, his companion also turned around. Blödhgarm wasted no time, he drew his sword as he pushed off, performed a somersault and blocked the first attack while at it, then landed on the opposite side of the chapel. He wheeled around, jumped again. One Ra'zac approached from the right, Blödhgarm parried the attack and struck in turn. He caught the creature's free arm and severed it smoothly before concentrating on landing in the tunnel. Only his feet hit no ground.

There was no passage a few meters below the opening, but a shaft that led down into the depths. Sharp pain ran through his left wrist it crashed against the iron steps attached to one of the walls, a loud clang sounding. The stone walls scraped his skin and probably gave him countless marks as he instinctively reached for his magic to break the fall, hoping he wouldn't hit his head.

in the end he reached the ground before his magic took effect and accordingly he crashed down hard. Air was forced out of his lungs, for a moment he was numb. Then came pain in his knees and chest, probably he had now broken a rib or two in addition to his wrist and arm. Blödhgarm cursed, if he had taken a moment longer with the jump, he would have remembered that earlier, when he had explored the tunnel system with the his spirit, he had certainly noticed that the entrance could only be reached via a longer ascent.

He forced himself to stand up, the Ra'zac surely followed him down the shaft. The fall had been considerable, even as an elf he had sustained not inconsiderable injuries. But without hesitation he hurried down the passage, healing the broken ribs and suppressed the remaining pain. He had neither the time nor the necessary peace of mind to heal the comminuted fracture of his wrist. So much for his plan to remain undetected until he reached Laethlin. Now he might not reach the other mage at all and turning back probably was be the most sensible option, but he would not leave without his companion, his mentor.

Blödhgarm took the first few forks randomly to shake off the Ra'zac, taking care only not to encounter anyone else. With his mind always combing his immediate surroundings, he could easily avoid the priests and find the defenses hidden in the walls early on. When he was sure the Ra'zac had lost his trail, he slowed his pace a little and began to get his bearings. Carefully, he let his mind roam further out, carefully blocking out all other beings so as not to attract their attention. Eventually he found another presence, relatively faint but definitely familiar. Laethlin. He was as alive and indeed here beneath the city.

He looked for the quickest way through the intricate tunnel system and cursed when he realized he had gone the wrong way. Cautiously, he went back two forks and then continued walking another way. Every now and then he cast a worried glance backwards, almost expecting the Ra'zac to catch up with him. In the corridors it became increasingly cool and damp, walls and floor became slippery the further he ran and every sound, no matter how soft, caused a much louder echo.

Blödhgarm had by now come close to Laethlin's position without having met any other priests, although he had sensed them now and then in nearby corridors, but he noticed that this part of the tunnels was busier. Laethlin was here somewhere in the centre, in the midst of far too many mages and priests. Blödhgarm considered deviating from the direct path and took a corridor farther away from the larger rooms. A few forks further on, he found himself at a crossroads of several paths.

Following more instinct than actual senses, he suddenly lunged to the side, landing where he had been standing a Ra'zac, one of the two he had encountered earlier probably. Blödhgarm created a light as he backed away from the next jump attack, simultaneously trying to locate the second creature who's arm he'd cut off. He found it in the passage that led on to Laethlin. They had not followed him, but had gone straight to their prisoner, knowing that he would turn up there sooner or later. Blödhgarm scolded himself, had basically surrendered himself in. Yaela would probably have a lot to say if she could see him now, but after all, she hadn't even entered the tunnels. So he was still ahead of her, wasn't he?

He sped up and headed for the Ra'zac in the corridor, who was waiting for him with his sword drawn. Blödhgarm catapulted himself upwards with a blast of air when he had almost reached him, pushed his opponent to the ground at the same time with another one and then hurled him against his companion. Actually, he had now intended to put an end to the two here and now, even at the risk of a fight being discovered or them delaying him further. But at the moment he was still flying through the corridor, he felt several spells being activated all around him and pointed crystals shooting out of the walls, floor and ceiling. Then his magical senses went numb for a moment, but he had enough speed to pass the trap. As he landed, his senses returned, behind him the amethysts closed off most of the passage and a terrible screech rang out. It had probably pierced at least one of the Ra'zac. After an agonizingly long time, the screaming finally died away and Blödhgarm heard nothing at all. He decided to move on and not bother looking for the second one who might have survived. The scream had surely alerted the priests and besides, it would take him time and energy to destroy the crystals to clear the way. Now he definitely needed to hurry.

Shortly afterwards he was standing in front of a door, behind which he clearly felt Laethlin's presence, but no one else. Determined, he pressed against the stone, which slowly swung open inwards, revealing a room that basked in the soft shimmering light of more crystals. There was indeed no one else present. He let his own light fade away.

Laethlin was chained with iron to another black altar on which there were some candles, along with the slender, bright sword that belonged to him. His clothes were torn, burnt and bloody skin was visible underneath, partly raw flesh. The silver hair was full of dirt and almost completely cut on one side. But as bad as he looked, the mage was awake and raised his head a little. A wry half-smile showed Blödhgarm that he recognized him too.

"The... the crystals. Quickly," the elf brought out and Blödhgarm looked around. They probably bound Laethlin's powers, similar as he had sensed for a moment with the crystals of the trap. He had not yet entered the circle, the spell did not work on him and so he could look for its trigger, but he did not find it. Perhaps there was none and the stones were always activated.

But he could just smash them with his sword. Blödhgarm wanted to draw his blade, purely out of habit with his injured hand. Long forgotten pain shot up his arm, he grimaced and reached for it with his other hand. But it found only the empty scabbard, the weapon was not there. His blood ran cold, when had he lost it?

Blödhgarm recovered from his shock and used magic to call Laethlin's blade to him, while he feverishly wondered where his own was. He had not drawn it when he had escaped the trap, he must have lost it before. His hand clasped cool metal, in one fluid motion he smashed the crystals to his left and right. He had drawn his sword when he had encountered the Ra'zac in the chapel and then must have let it go when he fell and broke his wrist. How could anyone be so stupid? Carefully he stepped around the circle and destroyed the remaining stones. Then he rushed to Laethlin, freeing him from the chains.

"Blödhgarm. I was beginning to think I'd been forgotten," the elf gasped, heaving a little, but there was still some amusement in his voice. "Or that you wouldn't find your way."

"Yaela was against a rescue mission, she didn't think we would reach you alive," Blödhgarm replied as he cast a healing spell.

"It almost came to that. Do you know why my sword is here? They wanted to sacrifice me using my own blade."

"They worship the cruelest gods I've ever heard of," he muttered between his indefinable chanting.

"No, not gods. They deify the Ra'zac."

Blödhgarm forgot his magic for a moment when he heard this and looked at his master in disbelief. "That is... sick."

Laethlin nodded. "You'd better hurry, boy. They were going to start my execution soon and the scream of Ra'zac has been heard all the way here. What have you done and where is your own sword, by the way?"

"I triggered one of the traps and escaped by sheer luck, at least one of the Ra'zac went down. And I lost my sword at the beginning of the tunnels. It think."

"And yet here you stand before me. If Yaela knew, I'm sure she would be impressed."

Blödhgarm smiled in anguish. "I think she'd pull my ears."

"Possible. We should get going, we'll be fine. I can walk."

He helped Laethlin up, who was a little wobbly on his feet but was able to walk.

"The direction I came from is blocked by the trap. We need another way."

"Then to the left. They always came from the other side."

Blödhgarm pulled the door open, made sure there was no one in the corridor, not even Ra'zac, and carefully closed it again behind them. They walked on, he tried to find a way out in his mind, but very soon had to retreat to avoid detection. The priests were alarmed, they were looking for him. Laethlin hummed softly as he continued to heal himself, able to run faster with each step. Blödhgarm tried several spells to show him the way out, but he did not get a clearer picture as with his mental search, only hazy streaks.

" _This whole place is jinxed. I can't find a way_ ," he sent to Laethlin in his mind to avoid having to speak. He sensed the elf's strong spirit clearly now, unbroken, the complex music that was his essence, so characteristic that he had found it throughout the tunnel system.

_"Just keep walking. If we stop, we'll never get out of here."_

The two ran silently along the corridors, stopping only now and then to listen for sounds. Laethlin let his hands slide permanently over the wall beside him, finally pulling him aside and stopping.

_"They use this second, hidden tunnel system. If we stay outside any further, they will find us but we won't be able to notice them. Let's create equal opportunities."_

Then he pressed his hands against the stones, but nothing moved. With Blödhgarm's help, the hidden door finally gave way, clearing the way into a much narrower passage. Laethlin motioned for him to follow and then led the way, much more cautiously than before. But he was right, now they could hear the priests moving, many different sounds now reaching his fine ears. Blödhgarm also noticed that this second tunnel system way simpler and it was a lot easier to find one's way around. And above all, it had no traps.

 _"We have to go up. And further west if we want to get back into the cathedral,"_ Blödhgarm stated.

 _"Entering via the cathedral was a risky venture."_ Laethlin's mind surrounded a certain acknowledgment. _"There are other ways, but I don't know where. So back to the cathedral and let's hope we don't run into the High Priest. He might give us trouble."_

Blödhgarm didn't even ask, but continued to focus on their surroundings. Several times they barely escaped the searching priests, but at some point Blödhgarm felt the traces of black magic seeping down from the cathedral in the rock around them more strongly again. They were on the right track. Guided by their intuition, they did indeed reached an exit again, though not to the shaft through which Blödhgarm had come, but found themselves at the foot of a narrow staircase. Slowly they followed it upward, then at the top Laethlin stopped abruptly.

_"We are in the choir room of the cathedral. There must be two dozen priests here."_

Blödhgarm glanced back into the darkness, listening.

_"Someone's coming from downstairs, we've got to keep moving."_

He joined Laethlin and together they entered the cathedral. The priests were still sitting on the stone benches, eyes closed and humming loudly. Careful not to make a sound, the elves crept to the edge, away from the glow of the candles. They had just reached the transept when from the opposite side of the crossing where the small chapel stood came a long, drawn-out cry with a distinctive hiss.

"Grassp them!" For the first time he heard a Ra'zac speak a language he understood and immediately realized that he was dragging out the s-sounds horribly, turning the otherwise relatively pleasant human language into something extremely ill-sounding.

They wheeled around, the priests instantly rose, doors slammed shut and immediately the humans began to harass the elves with their minds as the Ra'zac rushed towards them. Blödhgarm switched to meditative breathing techniques to calm himself, strengthened his mental link with Laethlin and fortified his mental barriers. He then switched to counterattack, seeking out the weakest mage, mercilessly tearing down the wall in front of his mind and instructing him to kill himself. One of the men collapsed with a gurgle and while the others looked around in fright, Blödhgarm drew his dagger and hurled it at a priest who stood up at the front and clearly had stronger mind. It was enough of a distraction to break him as well. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of two more Ra'zac charging out of the same passage they had just left. He threw Laethlin's sword back to its owner who caught it in one fluid motion and faced the two Ra'zac after two more men had gone down. Some commotion spread among the people, Blödhgarm took his chance and jumped onto the foremost bench, scratching the clawed hand across the throat of the first priest. Blood ran down between his fingers, he pushed the dead man aside, withdrew his dagger from the other corpse and attacked the next opponent. With the sword he would have been much more efficient, because he would clearly be superior in range to the priests with their crooked daggers, so he compensated for this disadvantage by moving faster. Like a shadow he whirled through the ranks of his opponents, either killing them right away or having to bypass the protective spells first, but for the moment he had an easy time going. The mental attacks subsided, he was able to decimate the number of priests without much effort.

Then the Ra'zac who had spotted them let go of Laethlin and charged towards him instead. Sword drawn he set to leap, following him with a wide leap. He did not mind breaking the neck of the priest he landed on, or disturbing their concentration, but kept going straight for him. Blödhgarm was equally impressed and worried by the leaping power the Ra'zac could muster. He whirled around, stabbing his dagger at a man standing in his way, and dove over the benches out of reach of the priests who could now pose a serious threat to him after all. He turned back just in time to narrowly parry the Ra'zac's first blow. He blocked two more strikes with difficulty as he continued to stumble backwards on the across the benches.

The creature made a strange, guttural noise and Blödhgarm realized it was laughing.

"I think you missss thissss one, wolf elf," the Ra'zac declared with a grin, raising the second arm that wielded another sword. His sword. Blödhgarm growled.

The Ra'zac only laughed once more and then attacked him with both weapons. But Blödhgarm saw his chance. He seemingly let himself fall back, turned away to the side and tried to kick the Ra'zac's strange leg away. He immediately regretted his action, for the foot did not move a bit, instead he felt a dull pain himself as it bounced against something extremely hard. He ducked under the next blow and stabbed the creature where he thought the knee joints were. Sure enough, he was rewarded with a screech that took away all his sense of hearing. Seizing the moment, he jerked the dagger upwards as the Ra'zac turned angrily to face him, striking the arm and catching its falling blade.

The slender, almost white handle fell into his hand perfectly, and he twisted his thin lips into a predatory grin. Now it was time to settle the score. He parried the following attacks without any problems, even if he had to admit that the Ra'zac was not bad. In the meantime they had turned around each other so far while fighting that he had Laethlin in his view again, who successfully hold his own against both of the other two Ra'zac at once.

Vaguely he felt the priests rally again and try once more to penetrate his mind, but their efforts were in vain. Blödhgarm was here and now, analyzing every single moment, every movement, so focused that their attacks subsided immediately when reaching the walls of his mind. His reflexes and instincts had long since taken over his body, guiding him effortlessly through the fight on the benches as he looked for the gap in Ra'zac's defense. Finally it gave him the opportunity to attack, but only from above. Blödhgarm moved a little to the side while he intercepted the blade with his own and pushed it into another direction. The Ra'zac might be tall, but not as tall as him and so Blödhgarm could stab downwards with his sword almost effortlessly. He sank the pitch-black blade into his opponent's chest up to the hilt. Colourless blood ran from the wound and the Ra'zac collapsed with a rattling breath.

Blödhgarm pulled out his sword and hurried back across the benches to help Laethlin, who looked quite exhausted by now. He had managed to disarm one of the Ra'zac, but blood flowed steadily from a gaping wound on his shoulder. Blödhgarm concentrated on the priests, who were again visibly unsettled by his onslaught. With a combination of sword strokes and magic that he did not use directly against his opponents, he broke their concentration and killed them one by one. He sent a strong gust of wind towards Laethlin as the disarmed Ra'zac tried to lunge at him with his bare hands, tearing the ground from under the creature's feet. Laethlin, meanwhile, managed to kill the other attacker and then went after the second, whilst Blödhgarm turned his attention back to the few remaining priests. He stabbed one of them in the chest, deflected a half-hearted attack and with the same sword stroke severed the man's head from his torso.

_"Blödhgarm!"_

He looked around as Laethlin's spirit called out to him and realized with horror that more priests were entering the choir room, including a man wrapped in linen, missing both legs, as well as his hands, so that he had to be carried by two slaves. They had taken too long with their fight, their enemies had caught up.

 _"I suppose that's-"_ He got no further, heavy clamps around his mind breaking the connection. He watched Laethlin kill the first two priests, but his movements were agonizingly slow and his face contorted with effort. Blödhgarm, meanwhile, swayed and finally lost his balance altogether as one of the last men around him attacked him with renewed courage. He tumbled off the bench, focusing all his concentration on fending off the mental attack and ignoring the pain as he caught himself with his injured hand. He used the momentum for a roll under the priest's outstretched arm, slicing through his calf, then took a risk. Leaving his own body mostly defenceless, he sank his mind into the mage's, manipulating his thoughts and making him kill his remaining two companions. Blödhgarm retreated before he knew if he had succeeded. He felt his mental barriers break, the brief moment he had focused on the man had of course been used by the High Priest to intensify his attack. Blödhgarm lowered all mental defenses and threw himself with similar determination against the flood of unfamiliar thoughts. Attack was and remained the best defence. Sensing the high priest's surprise, he used this brief surge of emotion to send him back into his own mind. The mental pressure on Blödhgarm eased, he rose and saw Laethlin collapse.

Rage spurred Blödhgarm on as he jumped over the bench, killing the slaves with a single word of the Ancient Language, and ran towards the men who surrounded the High Priest lying helpless on the floor, protecting him with their bare bodies. He hurled a wave of pure energy at them that shredded half of them along with their protective spells. Then the High Priest intensified his attack on him again and Blödhgarm saw with relief that Laethlin was stirring. He hissed, his entire neck fur bristling as sheer force of will slowed his movements and left him vulnerable to the priests. But they remained where they were. Apparently he had ingrained enough respect into them that the remaining three preferred to stay with their leader to protect him rather than attack him. He bared his teeth, saw the fear in their eyes. Blödhgarm stopped and concentrated completely on attacking the High Priest in his mind. They fought a mental duel of the fiercest kind, but the maimed man did not manage to penetrate Blödhgarm's mind again, just as he did not succeed in breaking down the other's barriers. He silently hoped that Laethlin would come to his aid, but he was on the verge of unconsciousness. The fight had cost him all the strength he had left after his imprisonment.

Feverishly Blödhgarm searched for a way to decide this duel in his favour. Magic he could not use, he did not know what protective spells surrounded his opponent. It would be foolish to try, for it gave the other the opportunity to strike back just as indiscriminately, and even though Blödhgarm had a complex system of spells protecting him, he did not want to take chances. If he was defeated, then it was over. Laethlin could fight no more.

Then an idea came to him. All he had to do was choose an attack that the high priest would not expect. And he had to be quick. Blödhgarm shut himself off from any sensory impressions so as not to be distracted and mentally went back to the chapel where he had overheard the prayer. Evil words came out of his memory, but he forced himself to push the doubts aside and concentrated on forming the spell, on perceiving the magic as a whole, as a unity. The melody of his own spirit flooded through him, could be felt in every part of his body. It was the strongest force he knew, and in that moment he was one with the magic that flowed through him. He actually no longer recognized any difference between the light and the black magic, they belonged to a greater whole, the words that had still deterred him in the chapel slipped effortlessly over his lips. Music filled him, melody flowed into his words.

Blödhgarm felt intoxicated, the feeling more intense than he had ever experienced. Energy flowed through him, pouring out of him and sweeping away everything that opposed him as the spell took effect. He enjoyed the moment, it was the strongest level of sensation he had ever experienced and it put him in a mental state previously unattained by any other influence, intoxicants, emotions or meditation of any kind.

Then a soft call reached him, far away. Another, then he realized that the voice was not reaching him on a mental level, but to his ears, which had obviously overcome their temporary deafness.

"Blödhgarm!"

He heard the call of a name, but found it hard to concentrate on it.

"Blödhgarm!"

Two more times the word escaped him again, then another reached him, one he hadn't heard for a long time, but which he had always known. A familiar sound.

Suddenly shallow light fell into his eyes, he blinked. He became aware of his surroundings, recognized the cathedral, remembered it, saw the splintered windows of the choir room. Then his eyes found Laethlin, who had pulled himself into a sitting position with utmost effort. And called out his name. His real name, which no one had used for such a long time. In fact, the mage was one of the few who knew it at all.

He twisted his lips into an honest, friendly smile. Laethlin exhaled in relief.

"Blödhgarm. For a moment I really thought this is the end."

He nodded cautiously, then stepped towards his companion and held out his hand. Laethlin grasped it and allowed for himself to be pulled to his feet.

"If you hadn't reached out to me, it probably would have been." Consternation mingled in his voice.

Laethlin waved it away and patted him on the shoulder.

"Let's go. We should be out of the city before the day fully dawns."

Blödhgarm glanced back to the choir room at the lifeless bodies of the High Priest and his subordinates, then followed Laethlin to the main gate, pulled open the tall double door, the sealing spell on which had been released with the death of the priests, and stepped out into the open. He put on the cloak of a priest from the cathedral and pulled the hood over his head to hide his animalistic features. They walked through the still empty alleys, in silence. Knowing very well that this night was definitely a incisive experience.

In the meantime the day dawned, slowly the city awoke from its dead sleep. None of the people they encountered would ever know what had happened here while they had slept. History had been written here when no one was there to witness it. In the dead of night, after the last child's laughter had faded into the darkness, the deeds that mattered were committed here.

The city gate was already open when they got there and no one stopped them from passing through. Laethlin did not look much better than one of the beggars on the streets and no one gave Blödhgarm more than a tired look either. They left the road as soon as possible, he discarded the borrowed cloak and was glad when sunrays warmed his dark fur.

Two horses trotted towards them as they reached the lakeshore. Laethlin whistled softly and his white mare nudged him gently.

"I think we have a moment," Laethlin said, turning to him. "A bath should do us both good. I hope you've thought of other clothes for me, mine are more rags than cloth and I, unlike you, have no warming fur."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to disappoint you. But you can have my travelling cloak."

Laethlin sighed. "Give it to me. As long as you haven't forgotten something to eat too."

The elf opened his saddlebags as Blödhgarm gave him a withering look.

"What are you talking about? These are clothes here, aren't they?" he then declared, pulling out a green tunic.

"I didn't put them in there." Blödhgarm looked at him a little puzzled, then grinned. "Wyrden. He wanted to accompany me, but Yaela forbade it. Apparently he realized I wouldn't comply."

Laethlin laughed.

After the bath they sat on one of the rocks on the shore, silent again, and Blödhgarm skipping stones across the water surface.

"Thank you," Laethlin finally said. "You have spared me a cruel death with your courage."

"You would have done the same."

"But I would have failed. I could not have killed the high priest."

"I-," Blödhgarm put in, but Laethlin cut him off.

"No, listen, boy. This one time. I don't think what you did was bad. I know part of it was what we call black magic, but I think we need to be more careful with those terms. Or eliminate them from our vocabulary altogether. Magic doesn't choose sides, but you can use it for good or abuse its powers. I think you've realized that today as much as I have."

Blödhgarm nodded in silence.

"Just do me a favour. Now you know where the line is, where control ends: Do not cross it. Others before you have lost themselves in the process."

Again he nodded, thinking of the sad stories of great mages, even elven ones, who had taken it too far.

"What of the Ra'zac, are they born from an ill mind with bad intent, are they unnatural as Oromis said?"

Laethlin hesitated, then shook his head. "I do not believe they are unnatural, they are living creatures, as are we. But their nature and origins are beyond my understanding."

Then they fell silent again, Blödhgarm skipping another stone across the water. He could not expect for all of his questions regarding magic to be answered after one night. They'd probably never be.

Rays of sunlight fell on his back, drying his wet fur which curled slightly.

"Can I ask for something else?" Laethlin questioned.

He shrugged.

"Lead the mages on in my place."

Blödhgarm looked at him in disbelief, wanting to protest but in the end did not do so. Laethlin looked at him, seriousness in his features, but there was also a gentle gleam in his eyes. Blödhgarm slumped his shoulders, brushed a few strands of his fringed pony out of his face.

"And what will you do?"

Laethlin looked across the lake, to somewhere in the distance.

"The war wears me out and what happened tonight shows me that it is time to leave. I will return to my occupation as a healer, which is what I was originally trained to do. I have led the mages long enough. Now I leave them in your charge, Blödhgarm-Elda."

For a while, piercing yellow eyes stared into deep green ones that looked back umoved. Then finally Blödhgarm agreed in a hoarse voice.

"If it is your wish."

Sadness mingled with his other feelings, but he also felt a little proud. People could talk all they wanted about Laethlin, but he would never lay his subjects in bad hands.

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of reused the concept of the High Priest from Inheritance without major changes. I don't see how the cult having been any different or less violent and crazy in the past and in addition I needed a strong adversary in the end, so please forgive me if you thought his appeareance to be uncreative.
> 
> Really hope you enjoyed reading this!


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